


Downtime

by LynMars79



Series: Tales of the Seventh Era [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Crystarium, Death, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Gen, Grief, Mourning, Siblings, i just like the younger Scions being friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: Between missions, the younger Scions hang out and maybe even act their ages a little.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just after Il Mheg.

“Minfilia? What are you doing out here?” Alisaie asked. Many of the shopkeepers were closing up for the evening, the night a novelty. People shuttered their stalls to enjoy the star-filled skies more than simply ending the business day at sundown.

The other girl started, not expecting to see the twins, but smiled shyly. “Thancred had some business to attend to, so he asked me to spend the evening with Urianger--but, Urianger is not in his quarters, so I thought to come to the markets to pass time...it’s so different from the last time we were here.”

“I believe the Exarch wished Urianger’s aid with some arcane matter,” Alphinaud said, as he joined his sister. “They are like to be occupied for several bells. Why don’t you join us?” He said. “We were going to explore the Crystarium’s new nightlife, before retiring to our quarters--and knowing Alisaie, continuing to stay up half the night.”

“Me? You’re the one wanting to gab endlessly as you write every stray thought into your journal,” Alisaie countered.

Minfilia looked between them, bewildered for a moment--then she smiled, realizing the honest affection beneath the banter. She nodded. “I...think I would like that.”

“Excellent,” Alisaie said. “The market’s closing up, and I’ve no desire to spend time in the bar--nor do I think Thancred would be pleased if we took Minfilia to a rough bounty hunter hangout…”

“Really, it’s rather more...tame than some of the places we have found ourselves--but, Thancred isn’t here, and he might be annoyed for going to such a place in his absence,” Minfilia mused. Alisaie’s brow furrowed, but Alphinaud jumped in.

“Why don’t we start with going by the Rookery?”

“The Rookery?” Alisaie asked.

Her brother nodded. “Szem was telling me some of the younger Zun had ideas with the amaro with the return of the night. I’d like to see what they’ve come up with while we were in Il Mheg.”

“All right. What do you think, Minfilia?”

“Oh...Yes, that sounds fine,” she said. The twins both grinned.

“Wonderful,” Alphinaud said, offering the Oracle an arm. “Shall we?”

Minfilia was taken a bit aback, but slipped her arm through Alphinaud’s, while Alisaie rolled her eyes and laughed. Minfilia wasn’t sure what the joke between them was this time--though Alisaie’s reaction earned a glare from her twin--but Minfilia did appear to enjoy the energy between the siblings as they crossed the plaza for the Rookery.

The event the younger breeders had devised involved lights strung on their dark mounts and participating in feats of aerial dexterity, delighting the crowd below as they watched the lights spin and whirl against the darkening sky.

“It occurs to me that these people have likely never seen a proper fireworks display,” Alphinaud said as they craned their necks upward to watch the amaro stunts.

“Perhaps we should introduce them,” Alisaie replied.

“Fireworks?” Minfilia asked.

“Intentional explosions of colored lights set in patterns and designs, oft used in celebration,” Alphinaud explained in his chipper textbook manner. “They’re quite common during holidays and other celebrations.” He looked up again, a smile of nostalgia on his face. “In Ishgard, there is talk to add dragon fire back into their celebrations, as the rift between Coerthas and Dravania heals…”

“That is a land back in the Source?”

He nodded. “I spent quite a lot of time there after some...difficulties temporarily separated the Scions.”

“It’s quite the story, if Thancred hasn’t already told it,” Alisaie said.

“I don’t think so. At least, not the way you might, having been there.”

Alphinaud blinked and blushed a little, while Alisaie giggled. “There’s a vendor selling refreshments; let’s get some drinks and find a place where my brother can regale us with the tale of the end of the Dragonsong War.”

“As if I could tell it half so well as others,” Alphinaud said, ears still pink.

“At least you won’t downplay our dear friend’s efforts. Though I shall insist you _not_ sell short your _own_ involvement, dear brother.”

“Ha! I was a very different boy then,” he replied as they ordered a round of sweet, slushy fruit drinks. The vendor tried to give Minfilia her drink for free since she was the Oracle, but she insisted she pay the cost of the drink. He had given all three youths a rather steep discount, anyway.

“Partly my point,” Alisaie said as she found a table to accommodate them. “Minfilia might find it interesting. And I simply find it amusing,” she teased gently.

Alphinaud sighed a bit dramatically, but then turned to Minfilia. “I am not so practiced a storyteller as Thancred perhaps, but allow me to set the stage—hopefully with few interjections from certain parties.” He mock-glared at his sister, who feigned innocence.

“To begin, allow me to briefly start with our order’s move to Mor Dhona—in many ways, a similar place as Lakeland—and how we first became involved with investigating heretics on behalf of our allies…”

The lit amaro spun overhead as Alphinaud spoke, Alisaie only interjecting a few times. She seemed almost as enthralled by a tale she had to have already known.

“So that is how the real Minfilia became the Oracle?” Young Minfilia asked as Alphinaud took time to collect himself after recounting the night they had fled the city called Ul’dah, and its consequences for the Scions. Alisaie had silently reached over to gently rest her hand on Alphinaud’s forearm. The boy’s brows were furrowed from the lingering guilt over his own role in the order’s misfortune, which he had not flinched from sharing.

“Indeed,” he said. “We did not find out her fate as the Word of the Mother immediately—nor what had become of Thancred and Y’shtola, or some others...but in due time. First, let me start with how we entered Ishgard, a city closed to outsiders for over twenty winters…”

For the next few bells, Minfilia listened attentively as Alphinaud described their time in Ishgard, with the occasional interjection from Alisaie (“So _that’s_ how you ended up on trial!”). The journey across Dravania sounded fascinating, especially the tensions between Ser Estinien and Lady Ysayle—both of them friends Alphinaud held in high esteem, and learned much from.

It was easy to see the pain he still felt at Ysayle’s loss, even as they had regained Y’shtola. And then for his friend Estinien to be taken by the dragon’s raging soul sounded like the horrors of the Lightwardens in its fashion, and Minfilia said so.

“Hrm. Mayhap you have a point…” Alphinaud considered the options.

Alisaie nudged him. “Conjecture later; you’re just about to the part where Krile came to Eorzea to help find Thancred.”

“Am I telling this tale or are you?” Alphinaud sniffed. “But yes; our friend Krile from our days in the Studium came to use her own Blessing to find those Scions still missing.” He paused again, and smiled. “She’s one of Minfilia’s dearest friends; while we had no idea as children about her possession of the Echo, she learned about her gifts alongside Minfilia, though malms often separated them. ‘Twas her ability that led us to Thancred, in the Dravanian wilderness.”

“She also knows even more terrible things about Alphinaud than I do,” Alisaie said, managing to keep her tone serious for perhaps five tics before breaking into another wide grin as her brother sputtered.

“I assure you, there are no other ‘terrible things’ that you or Krile can say about my behavior! You should consider your own antics, Sister.”

“Are you certain, Brother? Krile and I had a chance to talk again before I was Called here, and we regaled a certain friend with a few tales from our Studium days…”

“Thaliak help me…” Alphinaud sighed, head in his hands in resignation. Minfilia actually reached over to pat his shoulder in sympathy.

“You um, were saying this Krile helped you find Thancred…?” Minfilia encouraged him.

“Yes, of course,” he said, lifting his head again. “‘Twas also when we first met the ones who, in the Source, called themselves the Warriors of Darkness--the former heroes and Warriors of Light of this world, though we of course didn’t know that at the time…”

“It occurs to me that Thancred’s current appearance in the Source is quite different from how he seems here,” Alisaie mused, interrupting Alphinaud once again.

“How do you mean?” Minfilia asked. As curious as she was to hear more of Krile and what the Warriors of Light had been doing in the Source, the twins also had a number of fascinating things to say about Minfilia’s guardian.

“Here he looks more as he did before the Ul’dah banquet,” Alisaie answered. “But since his journey through the Lifestream...Alphinaud, why not sketch a picture, to give her a better idea?”

“Only if we destroy it afterwards; I don’t want him coming for me,” Alphinaud only half-joked as he pulled out his notebook and pencils. “Like many Archons, Thancred’s Sage Marks, along with his own skills and knowledge, preserved his health and appearance for many years. But with his journey through the Lifestream...while Y’shtola lost her eyesight, that was where Thancred lost the ability to manipulate aether. Luckily, it was never his primary vocation, and he has been able to adapt rather well, I think.”

“He misses it,” Minfilia said. “There are so many things he says would be easier, or more convenient, if he could still cast spells. He’s taught me some practical ones, though it’s difficult with only verbal instruction and no demonstration. Unless we were visiting Urianger, at least.”

“Then you get more instruction than you could want for,” Alisaie laughed. It was infectious, and Minfilia giggled along in agreement.

“Here; this is Thancred as he appeared to us again in Dravania, and more or less how he has continued to look as we have fought across our realm and the Far East.”

The image Alphinaud had quickly sketched was definitely Thancred, with one eye covered by a bandana, his hair longer and messier, and an unshaven jawline. “What happened to his eye?” Minfilia asked in concern.

“So far as we can tell, nothing, beyond some discoloration. His eyes are naturally a shade or two darker brown than what they seem here,” Alphinaud explained. “But since the Lifestream, his left has been silver. There are no scars, and it doesn’t seem to be blind and yet…” He shrugged.

“Thancred’s too cagey to let us know what truly happened,” Alisaie said. “While Y’shtola’s sister eventually spilled the truth about her condition.”

“Which she ensured Y’mhitra regretted for a full moon afterward,” Alphinaud pointed out. “Now, as I was saying…Our reunion with Thancred was when we also met the other Warriors...”

It was fascinating to hear Alphinaud’s first impressions of those adventurers who had crossed worlds--the monikers they had taken, their alliance with the Ascians, the confusion from the Scions at the mysterious companions who had come from nowhere. “But our...conflict with them can wait a little longer, if you wish to hear of how we saved Estinien from Nidhogg.”

It was the better story.

Eventually Minfilia heard the whole tale of the Dragonsong War, and a bit of what came after. Alphinaud looked as if he had more to say, especially as Minfilia asked about the Warriors of Darkness and their connection to the real Minfilia, but the chronometers chimed eleven times, and Alisaie gasped. “Gods, the time has gotten away from us, listening to Alphinaud drone on!”

“_Drone on?_ You were the one who suggested--”

Alisaie ignored him and turned to Minfilia. “...Are you supposed to go back, or…?”

She shook her head. “He said I was to stay with Urianger, and we would meet in the morning.”

“Let’s see if Urianger’s returned to his quarters, then,” Alphinaud said as he tucked away his sketchbook. “It’s possible he and the Exarch completed their work.”

Minfilia nodded, and after they ensured they had left their table tidy, led the twins to Urianger’s apartment in the Pendants. Knocking on the door did not get a response, and Alphinaud thought to ask the attendant at the front desk--who reported their studious friend had yet to return.

“I...suppose I can wait…” Minfilia began.

“Nonsense,” Alisaie declared. “Why don’t you stay with us instead?”

Minfilia gasped. “I...Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…”

“‘Tis no inconvenience,” Alphinaud assured her. “And we can leave a message at the desk letting Thancred know the plan had to change, and where to find you. As he _will_ worry.”

“I don’t wish to make him cross with you, or even more than he might be with me...” Minfilia said, ducking her head.

“Which is why a note will suffice to keep him aware. And Alisaie’s expression tells me she shall gladly handle Thancred if he _is_ cross,” Alphinaud said, smirking at his sister.

“Hrmph,” Alisaie sniffed. Then she shook her head and smiled. “Honestly, Minfilia, you’re not a bother; it’ll be like camping, only in the comfort of our rooms. And we can pester Alphinaud together.”

“Hey!”

Minfilia smiled. “All right...if you insist.” The twins nodded in unison, and the trio made their way to the Leveilleurs’ quarters.

Ardbert couldn’t help but smile as he watched and listened, ambling along after. He had been following them around for most of the evening, once his fellow Warrior had dropped off to much-needed sleep. Ardbert had hoped that this young reincarnation of Minfilia could hear and see him too, but she didn’t seem to notice. Still, lacking much else to do, he trailed them, enjoying their camaraderie and youthful antics. And, he figured, if anything _did_ happen--as was wont to with adolescents left to their own devices--he could always rush back to his counterpart, even if it meant a rude awakening.

He wished he could tell the twins he was sorry for the grief he and his friends had caused them on the Source. Renda-Rae’s arrow had nearly done for the girl. Ardbert was glad it hadn’t come to that--and he thought his old friend would be, too. For all her bluster when they faced the Scions in combat, he knew how much that shot had bothered Renda.

But here they were, a hundred years later; Renda-Rae was but a memory scorned by the world, while the twins were alive, laughing, and considered heroes by many. Not the best trade Ardbert had ever made.

Ardbert laughed, unheard, along with them as the girls began to tease Alphinaud in earnest, Minfilia getting in on it with a little encouragement, before her good nature made her apologize. The boy’s grin through his reddened face assured all he wasn’t truly offended.

It was simply nice to be around such joyful life again, even if Ardbert couldn’t quite reach it.


	2. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thancred has to think about things he'd rather not when he realizes his charge is making friends with the younger Scions.

“Very well,” the Exarch said. “I believe I shall briefly check in our friend myself, in light of these concerns. If there is nothing else?”

“I believe that’s everything,” Yshtola replied. “We should all get some rest before determining the next course of action. That includes you, Exarch.”

Even beneath his robes, he seemed startled. “Yes, of course. Thank you for your concern, Y’shtola.”

The others grinned, some of the tension of Rak’tika falling away. Thancred sighed and turned to Minfilia. “Let’s--

“Minfilia!” Alphinaud interrupted, stepping over to the young Oracle. “As the Exarch and I returned from Kholusia, Szem informed me that some of the amaro eggs were going through the hatching process. From what he described, it sounds fascinating--and I know Alisaie was interested, though she isn’t back from Ahm Araeng yet--so I wondered if perhaps you wanted to come along? We can both tell her what she’s missed.”

Minfilia gasped. “Oh! There were eggs at Wolekdorf, but none of them near hatching,” she exclaimed. “I’m certain the hatchlings will be _adorable_.” She took a step forward to join Alphinaud but then froze. She turned to look up at Thancred, blue eyes wide. “Um. May I?”

Thancred blinked at the youths. “Er…”

“Do not stand watch all night,” Urianger interjected. “Thou needst thy rest as well. But do be sure to note all the details, that Mistress Alisaie is not too upset by what she hath missed.”

Minfilia seemed to take that as permission enough, nodding and whirling back around to follow Alphinaud as they rushed from the Ocular, already chattering about what they knew of amaro, particularly after the trip to Il Mheg.

“...What just happened?” Thancred asked as the door closed behind them, leaving the elder Scions and the Exarch in relative quiet once again.

“Were I to hazard a guess,” the Exarch said, amusement tinging his voice. “Children, being children, happened.” He chuckled.

Y’shtola, too, giggled briefly. “Indeed. ‘Tis good to see, honestly. The twins have grown up far too quickly, and have shouldered far too many responsibilities for their years. They are still young, and moments of relative freedom and amusement come rarely enough. Minfilia also benefits, having spent so much of her short life locked away. ‘Tis only natural the three of them connect due to their ages, and the situation we find ourselves in, that none other can share.”

The other men nodded in agreement, though Thancred looked pensive still.

“Something wrong?” The Exarch asked him.

Thancred shook himself, and smiled wearily. “No, not at all. I just...hadn’t realized she and the twins had become so friendly.” He looked back to the door, thought of saying more, but shut his mouth.

_Don’t be a fool. You’re just her keeper--until she makes her choice._ He felt the familiar heart pang at the idea, the conflicting wishes pulling him in two different directions.

Not as much as it used to, though. The first wish was not nearly so powerful as it had once been. He reflected on that as he said good night to the others and returned, alone, to his quarters. The automatic motions of tending to his gear, checking on his supplies, noting what he would have to restock or replace, helped quiet his mind for a time.

How would friends affect her decision? Would depend on the friends, he supposed, and for that the Leveilleurs were quite high on the list of good ones. There were those they had met in Slitherbough and Fanow, as well; Thancred wasn’t sure the faire folk of Il Mheg counted. They hadn’t stopped many places or taken the time to socialize as they had traveled Norvrandt, keeping ahead of the Eulmorans.

Had he done her a disservice by not giving her the time to make friends? Had he done any better than Ran’jit, keeping her on the move if not in a cage?

Thancred growled in frustration as he counted out his ammunition. Cartridges she had imbued for him, at his request.

She had never told him she was lonely, or wanted more friends, nor disagreed with their transient lifestyle. _Would_ she have said anything? Perhaps he should have asked…

“Minfilia,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. He addressed the sister he so wished was here now—but if she was, then the girl would be—

“I wish I knew better what to do, what you asked of me. For her sake. The others think I only see you, want you back—and I _do_ want you here. But not…”

He couldn’t say it out loud, even alone.

An ideal world would allow him to have both; the woman he loved so dearly, and the child he...protected, at her behest.

He could now admit, in the late night hours all alone in their quarters, that he _was_ afraid of the choice the girl would make. Either way, he would lose.

And Thancred was so bloody tired of losing.


	3. Hatching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-ordered, as some folks wanted to see the egg hatching. Just after Rak'tika, before the invasion.

The stables were warm and their shadows deep, fear of flames in the straw outweighing the new need for lights as night embraced the Crystarium. Still, Szem had gone to find a lantern, and in the meanwhile, the light from outside--and from Alphinaud’s carbuncle--were the only dim sources of illumination, while they waited for the large egg to hatch.

Minfilia stifled a yawn. “How much longer do you think it will be?”

Alphinaud sketched the amaro tut-tut-tutting around the egg; it seemed to be encouraging the hatchling inside. “Not too much longer, I should think. The egg’s been moving and cracking for some time now. I wish I could have joined you in Wolekdorf; I should have liked to have spoken with the amaro there and learned more then.” He squinted at the page, and hoped Szem hurried with that light; the carbuncle tended to move at the most random times.

“Well, someone had to entertain the pixies,” Minfilia teased. “Oh, do you think this amaro will be able to talk someday?”

“I hope so, though we likely shan’t see it, as it can take a hundred years,” he answered. If all went well, he and the other Scions would be returned to the Source and back to their own lives long before the question’s answer was relevant. If things did _not_ go well…

Best not contemplate that.

“They tell such wonderful stories,” she said after a long pause, watching the egg rock. “The ones who used to have masters speak with such fondness for them, it’s almost like they’re still alive in a way.”

Alphinaud smiled at that. “A form of immortality in its own right, to be remembered in such a manner.”

“Like your friend Ysayle, remembered by the dragons?” Minfilia asked.

“I...yes, I suppose so. They will never forget her, and in their song, she will live on. ‘Tis the best any of us can hope for, truly.”

There was another thoughtful silence. In the dim light, he caught her suddenly wiping her face. “Minfilia? If you’re tired we can return in the morning…”

“N-no, I want to see; we might miss it if we leave. And then we couldn’t tell Alisaie about the hatching, either.”

Her voice sounded shaky. “What’s wrong?” Alphinaud asked, as gently as he could.

“I...it’s silly, and selfish…”

“I very much doubt that.”

“They won’t remember me,” she blurted out. The amaro shook itself in surprise at her tone, but quickly settled again as the egg made another roll over and a new crack appeared.

Minfilia cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I’m just..._a_ Minfilia. The latest in a line, all of us copies of...of _her_. The _real_ Minfilia.”

Alphinaud frowned, then reached over to carefully put a hand on her shoulder. “You seem rather real to me,” he said, attempting a light tone. He squeezed her shoulder as she sniffled. “You share her name--among other things--but you’re still _yourself_ as well. Really, few of us are so lucky as to be remembered by immortal beings for the rest of their days, or even in the annals of history. I doubt very much my own minor contributions shall be remembered, in the shadow of the Warrior of Light--or Darkness, as the case may be.”

“Does,” she hesitated. “Does that not bother you?”

“It used to,” Alphinaud admitted. “But recognition has its own price, I’ve learned. And there are far more important things to worry about than how history may recall me, if at all. Frankly, if I am remembered, I expect it shall be less than flattering regardless. What matters is the here and now; what we choose to do, and why.”

“It shouldn’t bother me at all,” she said, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. “Until you all came--until I was taken from my cell--I believed what I was told; that the world was dying, and soon there would be none left. One’s present, even the past, matters little when there’s no future.” She looked toward him. “But now there _is_ a future--or at least the _hope_ of one. A reason to remember the past.”

“And goals to strive for in the present,” Alphinaud said. He watched the trembling egg for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I’m always going to remember you--not as a ‘copy’ of our old friend, but as _you_\--who simply happens to share the name. I daresay the others are of a like mind.”

She smiled wanly, but nodded for him. “Thank you,” she frowned again, however, and then hesitantly asked, “Do you...do you really think that Thanc--”

“Almost time!” Szem sounded boisterous, startling both youths as the Zun came back into the stable, one of the new Crystarium lanterns in hand. “Took longer than I thought to find a good light, but now we are ready!”

The moment was gone, but Alphinaud was privately relieved; he didn’t know how to answer the question she had been asking. ‘_I want to believe he does, but I’m not sure--because he will not speak of it, even to us._’ What sort of an answer would that be? She deserved an honest response--but also a more certain one.

Szem handed them both little net-like sacks of apple slices and skins of goat milk while they waited. The Zun checked the egg, rubbing the waiting amaro’s head as he nodded. “Soon, soon,” he crooned.

“What happens if the hatchling can’t get out on their own?” Minfilia asked.

“A rare occurrence,” the stablemaster said. “But if it happens, then the parents shall aid it best they can. And we are here, if needed. I know Master Alphinaud to be a fine healer.”

Alphinaud nodded, his cheeks warm at the praise. “I shall do what’s necessary, as you direct.”

Minfilia nibbled on an apple slice, brow furrowed as she thought. Alphinaud finished his own snack and nudged her with a shoulder. “Anything the matter?”

She shook her head. “Just thinking. Oh! What was that?” She exclaimed, interrupted from her thoughts by a sharper cracking than any previous.

The egg shook, spinning halfway down and around as another crack raced across its surface, and then a talon broke through, followed quickly by a whole foot, flailing slightly as it suddenly didn’t know what to do.

“Look, it’s trying!” Minfilia exclaimed. “Come on, you can do it!”

From inside the egg there came a warbling, croaky noise as the foot retracted. There was a spit of liquid—the fluids of the egg, that which hadn’t seeped out through the various cracks yet—and then a wet black snout, puffing and snorting as it took in air for the first time.

“You’re almost there,” Minfilia urged the hatchling. Alphinaud bit his own lip, and he could swear he saw Szem do the same as the girl leaned forward on her knees, watching with excitement while the amaro parent chattered and cooed their own encouragement, nudging at the egg.

More of the head shoved through, big black eyes blinking. There was a quizzical “gwee?” as it tried to pull back into the shell and found it could not. The hatchling huffed. The egg rocked, the cracks widening and more shell breaking away as talons and wings kicked and beat at the sides.

“Just a little more,” Minfilia said. The little amaro turned its bleary gaze to her and squeaked, wriggling and pushing.

In a sudden final cracking, the shell gave way entirely, and the amaro tumbled free, slick and flopping wearily after its ordeal.

“You did it!” Minfilia cheered as the parent amaro began grooming the little one clean.

The newborn amaro turned its blinking black eyes to Minfilia and gave her a tired but triumphant “Gwee!” as it cuddled closer to its parent.

“And now for some food and rest--and that goes for young humes and their elven escorts as well, I think.” Szem said.

“Perhaps he is right,” Alphinaud said, stretching. “It is getting late and the others will want to get an early start.”

“You took notes and made sketches for Alisaie, right?” Minfilia asked as she stood.

He showed her his notebook, with lines of observations and quick sketches of the egg, the amaro, and the start of a new sketch of the hatchling itself, on the pages. “I think this should suffice to give her an idea.”

Minfilia nodded after deciding his work was satisfactory. She turned to Szem. “Thank you for letting us watch!”

“Thank the amaro,” the stablemaster said, gesturing to the beasts. “If they had not wanted you here, nothing I could say would matter. But they like and trust you.”

Minfilia blinked her big blue eyes, reminding Alphinaud, just for a moment, of the hatchling. She turned to the parent amaro, carefully reaching out to stroke its nose. It leaned into her touch, chirring gently.

“Thank you,” she said softly, giving it pets, then reaching for a spot under the chin to scratch, making the creature shiver and make delighted croaking noises. Minfilia grinned, and then crouched down to pet the baby. “Welcome to the world.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, but Alphinaud could just barely pick out the words. “Perhaps someday, you’ll go to Wolekdorf. I hope so.” The little amaro chirred sleepily, rubbing against her warm hand, before quickly falling asleep under the parent amaro’s wing.

“They have excellent memories,” Szem said. “Part of the Ronkan breeding that created them. They always remember the people that were good to them. You have given this little one a fine start.”

As he escorted Minfilia back to her quarters, Alphinaud took a glance up at the dark sky, and the shadows of other amaro flying to and from the Crystarium. “Once we finish saving this world,” he said, casually. “That little amaro will have a chance to grow up. And maybe someday, if lucky, will learn to speak, and travel to Il Mheg to join their brethren.” He looked at Minfilia. “And perhaps they’ll tell the story of the first girl they knew, who encouraged them from their egg.”

“Maybe,” Minfilia replied. She looked down thoughtfully, then back up at Alphinaud with a tentative smile. “But we have to make sure they even get the chance to grow up first, don’t we?”

“Two more Lightwardens to go,” he agreed. The chance of a future for the amaro--and the girl walking next to him. ‘_To be remembered as yourself--not just for the name you inherited._’

Going home could wait long enough to ensure that.


	4. In a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Nabaath Areng, some changes take getting used to.

She couldn’t help but fidget through the Crystal Exarch’s speech, short as it was. She wanted to shrink away from the dozens of eyes staring past the Exarch and at her. They knew her as their Oracle, as their Minfilia.

_“I would not have her walk in the shadow of another any longer,”_ Y’shtola had said.

_Minfilia’s gone,_ she reminded herself, an ache in her chest, soon followed by a reassuring warmth.

_No. Not gone; she’s still with me. Now and always...so we can save them._

“...and while we shall always remember Minfilia and all she has done for our world, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our Oracle: Ryne.”

She lifted her grey eyes up to meet the crowd. She caught Bragi looking, and his smile was relieved. Chessamile, next to him, beamed. Katliss, and Moren, and Szem, and Lyna, and and and…

The wave became almost too much, and she nearly reeled back on her heel--if not for Alphinaud’s shoulder bumping hers as he shifted his stance at just the right moment. “Pardon,” he murmured casually, though she was certain it had not been an accident.

Anymore than Alisaie turning from her place in line, slim body half-blocking the view of the crowd. “And now that’s done. Shall we get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“When are you not?” Thancred asked, stretching with a wince as something that might not have been his armor popped. “But that does sound--”

“_You_ are retiring to your quarters forthwith,” Y’shtola ordered. “There’s still more than a little recovery you need after your reckless behavior.”

“_My_ reck--Urianger, please tell our esteemed colleague--”

“I agree with her assessment. Thou shalt return to thy chambers and rest, my friend.”

“You had better listen to them,” she spoke up now, putting her hands on her hips as she looked up at her guardian.

Thancred sighed, hands raised in defeat. “All right, all right. Bring me back something when the twins finally let you go, would you, Ryne?”

It still sounded so strange to hear it. Yet...so right. Especially from him.

Her own name.

She felt that warmth again, and couldn’t help a smile as she nodded. “I will!”

As the twins pulled her along, she glanced back. Urianger and Y’shtola flanked Thancred, making sure he went back to his rooms to rest. Lyna broke up the crowd; the Exarch was not staying to speak with any of the citizens. Instead, he seemed to turn and head toward the Pendants. He was just as worried as they were. Now that she could see the damage--

“She’s still not used to it!” Alisaie was laughing. “Ryne, we’ve been trying to get your attention!”

She blinked and looked back at the pair. “I’m sorry! I _am_ still getting used to hearing it.”

_“‘Blessing’ in Fae,”_ Urianger had said. A word Thancred had remembered (he paid far more attention to Urianger’s lectures than he let on, because it amused him to taunt his fellow archon--and one couldn’t pull such antics off with Y’shtola).

“I feel the need for something hearty,” Alisaie said. “Climbing deep into abandoned wells and mining tunnels after distracting and avoiding the Eulmoran army is a lot of work.”

“Whatever you like, so long as you pick _something_,” Alphinaud replied. “Any preferences, Ryne?”

_“You’re family. How else would I feel?”_ They still had to talk, still had to discuss all those things left unspoken, that he had mentioned as he had been blocking Ran’jit from following her. Yet the few words said in the ruins of Ladle had changed everything. How much more was left to say, really?

“Something savory,” she answered. “Warm and meaty, with perhaps a touch of spice.”

“I know we just came from Ahm Araeng, but we really didn’t get to try much cuisine. Cassard’s sure to have something, or point us in the right direction,” Alisaie said.

“So long as it isn’t Mord cuisine,” Alphinaud said.

“You just haven’t had properly glazed worms,” Alisaie teased.

“I liked the bread,” she offered. “Just not too much at once, or the cactus juice inside can turn one’s stomach.”

Alisaie nodded in agreement. “See? Ryne’s braver than you are, though you’re the more experienced adventurer.” Before her brother could respond, Alisaie dashed off to intercept Cassard.

Alphinaud sighed, but couldn’t hide his smile. “Brave as I need to be, dear sister, but even the Warrior of Darkness balks at a Mord’s dinner.” He shook his head, and then turned to her. “Are you all right? If you’re tired, we can get the food packaged and retire…”

She shook her head and smiled. “I’m fine; I _am_ a bit tired, after everything, but it’s mostly…” She considered how to explain it, playing with a lock of her now-red hair. “There’s a...shift, inside me. Not just the Oracle, but...the name. Thancred. All of it.”

“He cares about you a great deal,” Alphinaud said gently. “Always has--he was just afraid to show it, or to let himself feel it, not knowing what would happen when you went to see her.”

“Once he’s rested, we’re due for a talk, I think.”

“Beyond time for it,” Alisaie said, returning to them quickly. “Cassard’s recommended a vendor near the Crystalline Mean, says many of the craftsmen swear by the cooking. I can’t say I’m surprised Thancred behaved the way he did--I’m just…” Alisaie hesitated.

“Disappointed?” Alphinaid asked as they followed his twin through the plazas of the Crystarium.

“No, more...I was thinking how his behavior reminded me of our father.”

Alphinaud blinked, then nodded. “He didn’t want us to leave for Eorzea; said and did all sorts of things to try to prevent it, but in the end...allowed us to make the choice, to regret or not as fate allowed.” He frowned and looked away. “It’s been too long since I wrote home, I think. Not even counting the year we’ve spent here.”

“_‘The Leveilleurs have given enough to that blighted realm,’_” Alisaie quoted. “He was afraid he’d lose us, too, after losing Grandfather to the Calamity. Gods, I wonder what he’d say now.”

Home. Family. Names. She had never understood those things before.

_“They’re everything to me. All I have and all I need. And I would gladly do anything for them. Let us pass, or kill me. I’m not leaving here without them.”_

Her own words to Ran’jit. She had spoken without thought, without plan, allowing them to tumble out past her lips as her fear and anger for them, _at_ him, had overwhelmed her fear _of_ him.

Gods, she had been dramatic. But...it was all true.

“He will be glad to know you’re safe,” she offered. “Even while doing your part to carry on your grandfather’s legacy. And that you’re not alone while saving our worlds--you have more family than just the Leveilleurs.”

“Well said, Ryne,” Alphinaud replied, turning a soft gaze to his sister, who briefly returned it with a smile--before flinging her arms around both their shoulders.

“Well said indeed. Now let’s go, I’m _starving_,” Alisaie moaned, herding them to a set of stairs leading to the next plaza.

She nearly stumbled trying to keep up--Alisaie’s stride was a swift one regardless of circumstances.

“Found your footing?” Alphinaud asked, batting his sister’s arm away.

_It means “Blessing” in Fae. It was chosen by my family. My own name._

Ryne laughed. “I’ve got it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to go back to pre-77 content and refer to her as "Minfilia." She's Ryne-and always has been.


	5. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the trip to Amaurot, a few words need said. Short, but on my mind awhile.

“What adorably imaginative children,” the Amaurotine shade said in its sing-song voice, the meaning directly translated to their minds. “You should run along home now, though. I pray you survive this dangerous time to become great creators.” The shade turned away, walking up the street and fading out of existence.

“Ugh! Every time!” Alisaie complained, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is getting us nowhere.”

The Amaurotine shade reappeared at the corner and resumed its work on the bushes it had been at when Alisaie and Ryne had approached it.

“What would a gardener know anyway,” Ryne said. “Let’s try that office over there…”

“Ryne.”

“Maybe if we ask about someone who may know about magical maladies…”

“_Ryne_,” Alisaie snagged the other girl’s arm before she could stride off. “We’re not going to find anyone.”

Ryne’s face crumpled for half a tick before she frowned back at Alisaie. “We just haven’t found the right way to ask yet.”

Alisaie shook her head. “These shades only know what Emet-Selch programmed them to know. They only remember the coming calamity. They don’t know anything about Lightwardens, or our friend’s aetheric imbalance.”

Ryne looked about ready to argue more, then slumped. “I just,” she sighed. “...I can’t believe there isn’t a way…”

“I know,” Alisaie said quietly.

“You were right,” Ryne said. “We shouldn’t make promises.”

Alisaie looked away with a grimace. She shifted her grip to be more of a comforting squeeze. “Some promises are fine--just, not ones we’re not sure we can keep. Besides, it makes for a better surprise if we succeed, doesn’t it?”

Ryne still looked down, lost in thought and defeat.

Alisaie hesitated a moment, dropping her hand. “Ryne, I’m sorry. For shouting at you, at the amaro launch.”

The other girl looked up, blinking in surprise. “But, you were right—“

“Maybe,” Alisaie said reluctantly. “But not the way I said it.”

“You’re worried. We all are,” Ryne frowned again. “I just feel so…”

“Helpless?” Alisaie finished, almost voiceless. “I understand. I feel the same.”

“But, you’re so...so capable! You can fight, and use magic, and…”

Alisaie laughed, unable to keep the slightly bitter tinge from her tone. “But not half so well as our dearest friend! My brother’s better at magic than I—always has been—and I still have a long way to go with my martial skills, as Thancred showed me the last time we sparred.” She sighed. “Some of that is simply time and practice, I know. And I am so much better than I was when I arrived in this world, let alone when I first arrived in Eorzea.”

Ryne did not reply, watching as Alisaie looked over the cityscape, chewing her bottom lip and considering her next words. “All I can do is keep trying. Keep fighting. Keep looking.” She looked back at Ryne and smiled. “But not to the point of futility. There are other ways we can help. Besides, we have to meet with the others, and perhaps they have found something.”

“...All right,” Ryne agreed. “Let’s go back, before the others begin to worry.”

The two young women began to make their way down the wide avenue, past the occasional shade, between impossibly tall buildings. Alisaie wondered if this was how lalafell felt in many places sized for the taller races. She decided it would not be prudent to ask Krile or Tataru.

Assuming she ever saw either of them again.

“Alisaie?” Ryne asked, interrupting the beginning of those depressing thoughts and the heartache that inevitably followed.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For the apology. I’m still not sure it was needed, but...I appreciate it.”

Alisaie smiled. “We’re friends, aren’t we? And with what we’re facing…I didn’t want to leave things unsaid.”

That made Ryne actually smile, some of the cloud of lifting, if only briefly. Well worth the swallowing of Alisaie’s own pride and anger at herself and their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept trying to see if there was more to this, but nope. I think just a few words does it. Not exactly "downtime" but it wanted out and this is a good place for it.
> 
> Also reordered some earlier chapters, so "Hatching" comes before "In A Name" as it was bothering me.


	6. That Final Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm replaying _Shadowbringers_ and Sad Alisaie happened. Please stop hurting this girl, SE.

The stars still glittered overhead, and Alisaie couldn’t help but keep looking up.

She had not realized how much she had missed the night sky, even after only one year in the First. How much more amazing was the sight for those who had been without for a hundred years? The many more who had never seen it?

Like Tesleen.

Alisaie stood in the empty market square where they had encountered the sin eater. The other cocoons that had dotted the fields leading into the town were now broken and empty, the Crystarium soldiers making quick work of the remaining creatures, weakened by the loss of the Lightwarden and the blazing sky.

All was still; the scent of smoke wafted in the air, the wind whispered through the trees and broken houses, and shadows pooled dark and deep around anything the starlight could not touch. The moon shone like a coin overhead, bathing all in silver.

If only her friend could see it.

Alisaie closed her eyes and reached out with her senses, but there was no sign of the eater’s aether; only the taste of ash.

She was gone.

Gone like Emery, drowned in rain and mud as the road gave out under the wagon wheels, taking half the merchant caravan. Alisaie had finished her friend’s last contract before moving on, drifting uselessly in her grief until she met X’rhun.

She almost wished he was here now; he would know what to say--or not to say anything--and gently point her back to the right path.

But X’rhun was a world away, and in her mind’s eye she saw him smile and shake his head and tell her she could find her own way--when she was ready. That it was all right, meanwhile, to take this time and remember. To mourn.

Alisaie had finished Emery’s work. But she could not stay at the Inn to continue Tesleen’s. It would never stop if she did. Unless they could end the Lightwardens, Halric and the others would eventually have to eat their final meals.

She thought of the first such meal she had witnessed. A young galdjent woman, not too many years older than Alisaie herself. Ingreva had been a caravan guard, and had risked herself to ensure others safety--only to be cast out for her sacrifice, left to waste away, ilm by ilm, in the desert under the towering edifice of the Floodwall.

Ingreva had liked chocolate cupcakes, with little bits of raspberry in them. It had taken some finagling, wheedling, deal making, and shouting to get everything needed. The smell as they had baked had been heavenly.

Tesleen had fed the cupcake to Ingreva herself, the woman too far gone to do aught but chew and swallow, when gently prodded and massaged to do so.

It didn’t take long; it was like watching her fall asleep, Tesleen tucking her in, except she had pulled the thin blanket over the galdjent’s relaxing face.

Alisaie had fled outside the stone shelter of the Inn, making her way to the derrick she liked to climb, a good tactical vantage point when looking for sin eaters and other threats. On the top platform, no one could see her sitting with her arms clamped around her drawn-up legs, eyes pressed against her knees as she fought the urge to sob.

It had been clean and painless and Ingreva had tasted something happy, shouldn’t this be a good thing? Preferable to turning?

She almost missed the sound of someone climbing up, uncoiling and turning, ready--and slumping when she realized it was Tesleen, hands up. “Sorry; I just…” She finished making her way to the top, fidgeting awkwardly. “The first one’s never easy.”

Alisaie turned away. “I’ll be fine,” she said shortly. Then winced at herself; Tesleen deserved better than that. So she looked up and back again. “Are you all right?”

Tesleen shook her head. She made the few steps across the platform and sat next to Alisaie. “I never am, after.” Her voice sounded thicker and rougher than usual. “It’s for the best, truly, but…”

“It never ends.”

“No.” They both studiously looked across the sands and broken cityscape to the gleaming Floodwall. “But someone must do it. For their sakes, and the sakes of those the eater would harm if allowed free.” Despite her grief, her conviction carried through. “I’m grateful, that we have this small mercy at least.” She looked at Alisaie. “But I remember my first last meal, too.”

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“No,” Tesleen whispered in response. She shifted just enough, and despite herself, Alisaie accepted the invitation, leaning on Tesleen. Her shoulders shook as the tears finally came, Tesleen’s own dampening Alisaie’s hair, as they held one another and grieved for a patient--a woman--who had had no one else in her final days.

It was not the last time they retreated to the derrick, after other such meals.

There was no final meal for Tesleen. None of the peace she had granted so many of her charges.

She had killed and infected others. She had come at Alisaie--at her brother, at her dear friend--like any other ravenous beast, devoid of recognition or the care that had so defined Tesleen in life.

They had done the only thing they could for her. The only mercy left, far too late.

Alisaie fell to her knees and let the sobs--loud, wet, and ugly--loose, howling her pain and anger and the _godsdamned **unfairness**_ of it all to the sunless sea.

* * *

It was nearly dawn by the time Alisaie finally slumped her way into the Crystarium apartment set aside for herself and Alphinaud. They hadn’t made much use of it in the last year, but things had certainly changed recently.

She opened the door, trying to be quiet. Not that it mattered; Alphinaud roused himself from where he sat in a chair, the book he had been reading slipping from his lap. “Ohthereyouare,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“You didn’t have to sit up waiting for me,” she scoffed. Just like him to fret. It kindled a warm mote in her aching chest.

“I know. I wanted to,” Alphinaud replied, picking up his book as he stood. He frowned at the damage to the pages, but set it aside with a shrug, then turned to his sister.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Just before it could get awkward, Alisaie opened her mouth to say good night--right as Alphinaud wordlessly opened his arms.

Her resolve crumbled and she fell into his embrace. She had thought her tears spent, but she apparently had a few left to dampen his shoulder with, as he held her tight and stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know her,” he murmured. “I don’t know what it was like for you, in Ahm Araeng. But--”

“Shut up,” she muttered fondly against his coat, squeezing him tighter.

He puffed out a half-laugh. “I’m here,” he finished, squeezing back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emery was from "[A Malm in Her Shoes](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/special/2016/short_stories/#short_stories_07)", Alisaie's HW short story.


End file.
